


Russia

by nanuk_dain



Series: Unexpected [2]
Category: Bourne Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-04
Updated: 2011-05-04
Packaged: 2017-10-19 00:04:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/194716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanuk_dain/pseuds/nanuk_dain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was time to take care of Kirill's problems. So Jason followed him to Russia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Russia

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place right after “Truce”. It had been planned as one story, actually, but it became a wee bit long and the end of the movie was a good point to split it, so I did. This story focusses more on Kirill and I invented a lot of background for him which wasn't given anywhere.
> 
> The beautiful series banner was made by my beloved Megan Moonlight!

  
[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/nanuk_dain/pic/000cqhee)   


_“Will you commit yourself to the program?”_

 _Light, bright and white, painful. A voice, dark and emotionless, getting under his skin, controlling his mind._

 _“You volunteered.”_

 _Pain, so intense, fear, anger, helplessness._

 _“Are you too weak to see this through?”_

 _Cold water in his mouth, his nose, his lungs, the need to cough overwhelming. Darkness everywhere, outside as well as inside him, taking over his mind, his body, his whole existence._

 _“What did he do?” - ”It doesn't matter.”_

 _Exhaustion, bone deep, his eyelids so heavy that he can't keep them open. His head to heavy to hold it up, hanging down, his shoulders aching from sitting straight for too long. His limbs numb with fatigue, his mind blank._

 _“We didn't pick you. You picked us.”_

“Jason!” He felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him none too gently. “Wake up, Jason!”

That voice, he knew that voice. Dark, accented, familiar.

Kirill.

Jason opened his eyes and it took him a moment to orientate himself. He'd been leaning against the window of the passenger side of the car and his right arm was numb from the cold that seeped through the glass. It was light outside, the faint light of early morning, and the landscape was passing by outside of the window at an average speed.

“Where are we?” He rubbed his hand over his eyes in an attempt to sweep away the remains of the dream.

“Close to Boston.” Kirill replied and turned to give him short glance before he looked back at the street.

They'd stolen a car somewhere close to the shore and Jason had taken over the wheel because Kirill's leg hadn't been up for the effort. Not to mention that Jason had been able to tell that the Russian had badly needed a break, some hours of sleep and an opportunity to rest his right leg. So he'd made Kirill take the passenger seat and had begun to drive them out of New York City. It hadn't taken long for exhaustion to win over Kirill's body, but Jason was still secretly surprised that the Russian had actually fallen asleep next to him in the car while they were basically on the run. It told him that Kirill had either been way beyond his limits or that he trusted Jason more than the American had expected.

After about two hours, they had changed places and Kirill had taken over the wheel while Jason allowed himself to unwind in the passenger seat. He found that he actually _did_ trust Kirill enough to dare to fall asleep next to him, so he embraced the sleep that had threatened to overwhelm him. He shouldn't have, because he didn't feel the least rested now, only torn by the memories he'd regained, by the things he had done, by the decisions he had taken. He didn't feel as if it had been him, it was as if it had been another person, as if it weren't his own memories. But he knew everything Dr Hirsch had said was true and that was the worst part of it. _Jason had picked them._

It made him feel sick.

“Jason?” He turned at the sound of Kirill's voice, a tone to it that he was tempted to call worried.

Jason just shook his head once and turned to stare out of the window. “Let's find a place where we can sleep and clean up. And something to eat.”

“ _Da._ ”

They found a roadhouse some miles later which had a motel attached and Kirill pulled into the parking lot. Once they had taken a room, they went over to the diner and ordered something to take with them into the room. They were both not presentable enough to spend any longer period of time in the harsh light of the diner, their appearance would attract far too many eyes. And staying dead in the eyes of the CIA was their number one priority right now, so they needed to clean up and stay out of sight.

Jason sat down at the small table in the motel room, the plastic plate in his hands. “What do we do about your problem? Where do we start?”

Kirill looked up from his food and mustered him for a moment, as if he wasn't entirely certain if Jason was really serious about the question. Then he leaned back against the backrest of the old chair. “I wonder who actually set the assassin on me.”

Jason frowned. “It wasn't the FSB?”

“Not necessarily.” Kirill replied and shrugged. “My services were loaned to Gretkov at the time.”

“So you took out Landy's agent and his contact in Berlin, stole the money and the files and planted my fingerprint on his orders.” Jason summarised and held his gaze steadily on the Russian. He was a very difficult person to read, Jason couldn't say how he felt about their rocky background history. If he was entirely honest, Jason didn't really know how he himself felt about it.

The Russian nodded. “ _Da._ ”

“Then you were sent to Goa to finish the job by eliminating me.”

Kirill nodded again. Jason didn't say what was on his mind, what he knew Kirill was aware he was thinking. _And you killed Marie instead of me._

***

“I hadn't meant to shoot her.” Kirill said suddenly, without really meaning to, and he immediately hated himself for having lost control over his mouth. Jason was looking at him with a gaze so intense Kirill wished he could take back his impetuous words. There was no sense in trying to excuse a hit, and he had never done it before. Had never thought about a job longer than the time it took to complete it. “I didn't know you had switched places.”

Jason's face was unreadable. “Would it have changed anything if you had known?”

Kirill was silent for a moment, even though he didn't really need to consider the answer. They both knew what it was going to be. “ _Niet_.”

“You would have aimed for me, but she would have been collateral damage.” Jason said quietly. There wasn't any anger or pain in his voice, just simple understanding. “I have seen enough of this world to know how it works, Kirill. Innocent people get trapped in the wheels of the system, that's just how it is.”

Kirill didn't say anything, because there was nothing he could reply to that. It simply was the truth.

Jason was silent for a long moment, his expression pensive, and he poked with his fork in his food without really paying it any attention. When he spoke, his words were very quiet. “She was the reason.”

Kirill looked up from his own plate, a frown of confusion on his face. “What?”

“In Paris, you asked me why I hadn't pulled the trigger.” Jason replied with a sad smile. “She was the reason.”

Kirill felt another wave of profound confusion wash over him. He just didn't understand the American, didn't see his reasoning. “Why? I was the one who had shot her, after all.”

Jason swallowed visibly at the words, but the sad smile stayed on his lips. He looked straight at Kirill. “Right before your shot hit her, she told me that I always had a choice, that it was my decision which path to take.”

Kirill frowned. “I don't understand.”

“She wouldn't have wanted me to enter the spiral of revenge on her sake. She wouldn't have wanted me to pull the trigger. So I decided that I wouldn't.” Jason's eyes were focussed on him and Kirill felt a shiver run down his back. “It was the first time that I didn't shoot.”

Jason kept looking at him until Kirill became nervous – a feeling he hadn't had in so long that he almost didn't recognise it. Then Jason suddenly broke the gaze and turned back to his plate.

“So, how do we proceed?” The American's voice was casual. Kirill was grateful for the change of topic, because he was aware of the layers of meaning in Jason's words, but didn't know how to react to them, how to deal with his own reaction, with his confusion. Jason was most certainly one of the most confusing men Kirill had ever met.

“We fly to Moscow.” Kirill replied a moment too late, and Jason looked up to catch his gaze. He didn't say anything about whatever he saw in Kirill's eyes, though, he just ate another spoonful of rice.

“We have to fly soon. Once the story of today's events spreads over the media, there will be no way for me to get through the airport control without being recognised.”

Kirill nodded. “We drive to the airport, find a flight for tomorrow morning.”

Jason chewed and nodded. “How do we find out if it was the FSB or Gretkov who came after you?”

“It's not really important.” Kirill shrugged and took a bite of his pizza. “I failed my mission twice and went missing. The FSB will have a kill order on my head, even if that assassin in Tangier may not have been theirs.”

“So we basically have to take out both.”

“ _Da._ ” Kirill replied and was glad they were back in familiar territory.

Jason pushed his plate away and leaned back in the old chair. “Well, one main problem is that Gretkov is in prison. We can't get in there without a very high risk of getting trapped.”

“True.” Kirill inclined his head. “But if I kill Gretkov, the problem is solved.”

Jason raised and eyebrow and Kirill was sure there was a mean edge to it. “But what will make him suffer more – killing him or making him fall? Make him lose all his money, his power, his freedom?”

A smirk appeared on Kirill's face. He could see where Jason was headed. “Make him fall.”

“I still have a copy of the tape I sent to Landy.” Jason offered. Kirill looked at him thoughtfully, then he shook his head.

“It is not enough.” he said and frowned. “We need more. Something that will make him lose his case for good, so that he can't even get out with his expensive lawyers. Prison will not keep him from ruling his little empire. We have to cut his bonds to the exterior world.”

“And how do we do that?”

Kirill didn't even have to think about that. “Andrei Nemov. He is Gretkov's right hand. We kill him and we take Gretkov's power. He can't rule without somebody loyal to him outside of prison.”

Jason didn't look too happy about it, but he didn't object. “How?”

“It will have to look like an accident. Otherwise we'll raise the suspicion of the FSB.”

Jason nodded and fell silent for a moment. “And how do we make Gretkov lose the trial?”

“That is a good question.” Kirill said and ate the last bit of his pizza.

“The public persecution will most certainly be interested in your testimony.” Jason supplied. “You were a key figure in the operation. Your knowledge would definitely make Gretkov lose the trial. Which probably is the reason why he wants you out of the way.”

“Of course they are interested in it, but I cannot expect to leave the Police Headquarters alive once the FSB learns that I'm there to testify.” He just shrugged. “They won't hesitate to blow up the building if they have to.”

It wasn't exaggeration, and Kirill knew that Jason was well aware of it. Officially, it was going to be a gas leak or something similar, but the result would be the same. Many dead, not only Kirill. It wasn't a very tempting option.

Then a thought crossed Kirill's mind. “We need to get to Stanislav Vetrov.”

Jason looked at him quizzically. “Who is that?”

“He was the contact person for Gretkov in the FSB. The man who assigned me to him. He is the director of the department of International Affairs.” Kirill explained and leaned back in his chair. “A conversation between him and me should be enough to break Gretkov's defence.”

Jason nodded slowly. “That could work.”

Kirill looked up and caught Jason's gaze. “But I cannot risk leaving Vetrov alive.”

“Why?” There was a frown on Jason's face.

“He trained me. He will be able to trace my steps better than anybody else.”

Jason's lips were a thin line, but he nodded. “I see.”

“And I should be considered dead afterwards, too.” Kirill went on. “If there is any reason to think I am still alive, they will come after me again.”

Jason just raised an eyebrow. “Then you'll have to die. Just like I did a few hours ago.”

***

 _“Will you give yourself to this program?”_

 _The light was back in his eyes, so bright, so angry._

 _“You said you would do anything it takes to save American lives.”_

 _His body was so heavy. He couldn't move his limbs, there was just no strength left in him._

 _“Are you too weak?”_

 _Pain, exhaustion. He was so tired. He just wanted to sleep, to never wake up again._

 _“You came to us.”_

 _Water, in his nose, in his mouth, in his ears, his eyes. Silence, darkness, so complete. So absolute._

***

Kirill woke to the sound of choking, his body on instant alert, and he was out of bed with his gun ready before his mind had even realised what was happening. He scanned the room with all his senses, and all he found was Jason trashing on the bed at the other wall, making this dreadful sound again, as if he was drowning and desperately trying to get some air into his lungs. Kirill knew a panic attack when he saw one, he had lived through enough of them to recognise the signs immediately. He walked over to Jason, lowered his gun and placed it on the bedside table, then he took a firm hold on the trashing arms to avoid getting hit.

“Jason.” He let his voice sound calm and firm. “Jason. Breathe.”

Under his hands, he felt the muscles contract, felt the barely contained strength of Jason's trashing body and heard the choking sound again. Kirill knew had to get through to him quickly, he couldn't allow this to get any worse.

“Jason. Shhhh.” Kirill lowered his head until his mouth was close to Jason's hear, then he hushed gently, knowing that the sound had always calmed himself down. It seemed to work with the American as well, his harsh movements eased, his breathing slowed a little until he could get air into his lungs again. Suddenly, Jason's eyes snapped open, a haunted expression in them, and Kirill wondered what it had been that he had dreamt about. It couldn't have been a good memory.

The expression was replaced by confusion, a frown appearing on his face. “Kirill?”

“You had a panic attack.” Kirill explained and let go of Jason's wrists. He leaned back but remained seated on the edge of the bed. Jason rose, propped up on his elbows, still frowning, so Kirill added, “You were choking as if you were drowning.”

Kirill watched as Jason averted his gaze, swallowing once, twice, then he looked back up. “Special training.”

Kirill only nodded. He knew exactly what the American was talking about. Most special ops did.

Jason was silent for a long moment and Kirill just listened to his breathing. It slowly returned to normal and Kirill thought that he should move back to his own bed. It was the middle of the night and they still had some hours before they would leave. And they both needed all the rest they could get, their hunt was far from over.

“I don't know who I am.” Jason said suddenly into the quiet of the room, his voice reflecting several emotions that Kirill found difficult to place. “It's even worse than when I woke up without my memories. At least I didn't know I became their mere tool of my own accord, then.”

Kirill turned his gaze to where he could see Jason's face in the faint light coming through the window. There was a deep frown on the American's expression, his gaze lost somewhere in the distance.

“I am not David Webb anymore.” Jason went on, his voice was silent but determined. “David Webb _wanted_ to become...” - Jason made a vague hand gesture at himself - ”...this. And ever since I woke up on that fishing boat in the Mediterranean Sea, I fought against them. And now I learn that I was _my_ choice that made me into their assassin.”

***

Jason couldn't say why he felt the sudden urge to talk, but the thoughts had turned over and over in his head and he was certain that he was going to go crazy if he didn't put an end to his constant brooding. He felt split in two, as if there were several persons' memories in his head, some of which didn't feel like his own, even though he knew they were. He was confused and disgusted at what he had done, but most of all, he just couldn't understand how David Webb could have volunteered for the Treadstone program, knowing fully well what it entailed. It went against everything in Jason's nature and he wondered how he could ever have been that man. In a way, Webb was worse than what he'd become.

Jason stared into the distance, not really seeing anything. “I hate David Webb for this choice. I don't want to be him. I prefer to be Jason Bourne a hundred times.”

He felt a hand on his shoulder, a gentle but firm pressure that made him turn his head. He found his gaze caught by Kirill's eyes, their expression as honest and sincere as the Russian had always been with Jason.

“Then you are Jason Bourne.” Kirill said quietly and held his gaze steadily. “It is your choice.”

It was as if the words, the touch, broke his restraint, his firm grip on his control, on his discipline, and Jason felt as if he was falling apart, as if he was losing himself in the confusion, the hurt, the pain. He had leaned in and wrapped his arms around Kirill's waist before he had even realised what he was doing, his head hidden under Kirill's chin, his nose buried against the soft skin of his throat, closing his eyes and just soaking up the Russian's closeness. He allowed himself something he knew he had needed desperately ever since he'd seen Marie disappear in the murky water of the river.

Comfort. Simple comfort in the presence of another person.

After only a few seconds, he felt Kirill's arms come up around his shoulders, enfolding him in a firm embrace, and Jason took a deep breath and allowed himself to wallow in the feeling of safety, comfort and trust that surrounded him. He had never expected to find it in Kirill's arms.

Kirill lay down on the bed next to Jason, pulling the American with him, never loosening his embrace. They just lay there for a long time, making no move to separate, and Jason felt sleep take over. He was comfortable and relaxed, and right before he gave into the tempting darkness, he felt the soft press of lips against his temple.

***

Kirill didn't know what had possessed him when he had reached out to touch the American. It had been an instinct he hadn't experienced before, the sudden urge to comfort, to hold, to protect. He'd been surprised at Jason's instant reaction, as if the American had just needed a sign that he was allowed to touch. The moment Kirill had felt the arms around his waist, had realised how Jason clung to him, he hadn't been able to push him away. Hadn't wanted to. He'd been overwhelmed by this protectiveness again, so strong that it had almost taken his breath, and he'd just followed his instincts again and had enfolded Jason in a reassuring embrace.

Kirill knew he was losing control, was feeling too much for this American, for a man who should technically be his enemy. Yet he didn't know how to stop it, and his ingrained honesty towards himself made him admit that this went far beyond physical attraction. So when he felt Jason fall asleep in his arms, he hadn't been able to resist pressing a soft kiss to his temple. Jason had given a quiet noise and had cuddled up closer to him, obviously already lost in sleep.

Kirill hadn't been able to fall asleep for a long time.

When he woke early the next morning, Kirill took a moment to enjoy Jason's closeness, his warmth against Kirill's side. The American had thrown a leg over Kirill's in an almost possessive gesture, his hand fisted in Kirill's shirt, and he was breathing softly against the skin of Kirill's neck. He was so obviously comfortable this close to Kirill that it suddenly made Kirill nervous, unsure of what was happening here, of how he should react to it. He couldn't blame anything on any painkillers this time.

It was this emotional turmoil that made Kirill get out of bed so he was gone before Jason woke up.

***

Jason looked over the rim of his newspaper and gazed at Kirill, who was sitting in the row in front of him. Through the central gangway, Jason had a perfect view at the Russian's profile and he couldn't help watching.

What had happened last night? There had been no painkillers involved, and it hadn't been about desire, sex or satisfaction. He felt as if they had crossed a line when they'd just touched to be close, none of them making any attempt to turn it sexual. He couldn't exactly tell _what_ line, but he was still sure of it. When he'd woken up to find Kirill already gone, taking a shower according to the sounds coming from the bathroom, Jason hadn't really been surprised. Maybe a bit disappointed, though.

The arrival of the stewardess interrupted his musings.

***

It was evening when they landed in Russia. The season hadn't changed much, it was still cold, but the snow had begun melting. Moscow was just as busy as it had been a few weeks ago. Jason hadn't expected to return here so soon.

“Where do we start?”

“We take out Vetrov.” Kirill looked down his clothes with a disdainful gaze. “But first, we need money for new clothes. Weapons. A car.”

“I assume you have ways to get everything on that list?”

Kirill looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Certainly.”

“And afterwards?” Jason asked and walked in a casual distance to Kirill through the airport building, enough to make them appear unconnected as long as cameras were present.

“We will get a suite in the Baltschug Kempinski.”

Jason frowned. “Isn't that a bit expensive? Not to mention the risks of the cameras?”

Kirill just shrugged. “I have the money for it. And I know the building, it is easy to get around the cameras. Furthermore, it's the last place where anybody will look for us.”

***

“Why am I not surprised?” Jason asked and looked over the sleek shape of the black Mercedes in front of him.

Kirill shrugged, but there was a smirk on his lips. “I have no idea.”

***

It was long past eleven pm when Kirill followed the hotel servant into the huge hallway of the suite and paid him a generous tip, but not too generous to attract any attention. A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door of one of the balconies and he let Jason in, who had taken the long way through the staircase that didn't have many cameras and over the roof. It was better for nobody to know that they'd arrived together.

Kirill watched Jason look around in the suite, his expression a mix of astonishment and scepticism. “I can't remember ever having stayed in such a rich place.”

Kirill allowed his amused smirk to show. “I like it from time to time.”

“It suits your love for huge, fast, expensive cars.” Jason said with a chuckle, turning around to face him.

The sound sent shivers down Kirill's spine. He couldn't help noticing Jason's strong body, clad in simple but elegant black trousers and a new shirt that hugged his torso very nicely, a smirk on his lips, a teasing glow in his eyes. He was beautiful, and Kirill knew he was falling fast. He was overwhelmed by the memories of Jason's body under him, his skin hot against his own, his voice hoarse with pleasure, his neck arched in ecstasy. And suddenly he couldn't take his eyes off the exposed line of Jason's throat that was accented by the cut of the shirt and he had to lick his suddenly dry lips. He saw blue eyes follow the movement of his tongue and knew he wasn't alone in this, that the shift in the atmosphere wasn't a figment of his imagination.

Until now he hadn't been certain how Jason felt about their shared night in Tangier, but when he saw the blue eyes wander over his body up to his face, the intense gaze finding his, darkening with want, he understood that Jason was as much under this incomprehensible spell as he was. It was a reassuring feeling, arousing even, and Kirill wanted to grab the American and take him right here and now, but he remained where he was, unmoving. He wanted to see if Jason would approach him, would initiate what they both knew they wanted.

A whole minute passed with them just staring at each other and Kirill felt the tension in the room rise to an unbearable level. Then Jason took a step forward, then another one, walking over to Kirill with almost feral elegance, slow and alert and predatory, and then a warm hand settled on Kirill's neck with firm pressure.

It almost made him snap.

***

He put his hand on Kirill's neck without giving it any conscious thought, but the moment he felt the warm skin under his fingertips, it was as if a shock coursed through his whole body and goosebumps spread over his skin. Jason's hold tightened and he found he couldn't avert his gaze from the stormy green eyes that had darkened with unmistakable desire. Their expression made a shiver of arousal run down his spine, it was exhilarating to see the effect his closeness had on the otherwise so controlled Russian, how this little touch brought him close to snapping. Jason was sure that it only needed little more and Kirill would grab him, press him into the next wall and kiss him senseless.

And Jason knew he wanted to feel the Russian's hands on his skin again, wanted the firm pressure of the taller body against his, wanted the hands to take hold of him, wanted to feel Kirill's strength. He was surprised to find that it was highly arousing for him to have a partner who was just as strong as him, who was his equal in mind and body, someone who could pin him down and hold him there. Somebody who wouldn't use this strength against him, who would release him the moment he asked.

Jason shivered with the realisation. Kirill had just as much effect on him as he had on the Russian, they were equals in this strange attraction. None of them was able to control it.

Jason couldn't tell what it was, but something must have broken Kirill's restraint, because suddenly there were hands on Jason's waist, shoving him backwards, then there was the wall in his back and a hot mouth on his. He returned the kiss, parted his lips to meet the intruding tongue, let his other hand come up to bury in Kirill's hair, pulling him close. Kirill growled into his mouth, his hips pressing against Jason's, his hands pulling Jason's shirt out of his trousers, finding their way underneath it, wandering over his skin.

Yes, this was it. This was what he wanted. Yet, it wasn't enough, not enough contact, not enough skin, so Jason let his hands brush under Kirill's jacket, pushing it off, then opening the buttons of the shirt, removing it, letting it fall somewhere behind the Russian without paying any attention to it. He felt Kirill's hands pushing up his own shirt, letting go of Jason's mouth only long enough to pull it over his head. Then the lips were back on his, hands were on Jason's waist, Kirill pressing his body against Jason's, skin meeting skin.

Jason let out a content groan. This was more what he'd had in mind. He felt Kirill's lips leave his, wandering down his jawline, his neck, biting his collarbone. There were hands on his belt, on his fly, then a hand slipped inside his trousers, taking hold of his erection, wrapping around it in a sure grip. Jason's head fell back to rest against the wall, his mind blanked, he could only feel. The hand moved along his shaft in a maddening slow movement and Jason pushed into the fist, letting out a frustrated little noise.

Kirill chuckled against the nipple he was nipping, licking, biting, and Jason writhed under the skilled hands, the tongue that made him lose his mind, the pleasure that had taken over his body. And he still wanted more.

Jason gathered all the concentration he had left and opened Kirill's trousers, pushing the fabric down his hips, then he cupped the nice backside and pulled Kirill's groin against his own. The friction was delicious, Kirill's hand automatically tightened its grip and Jason's hips bucked forwards.

“Bed.” he heard Kirill growl close to his ear, his voice so low that it felt like a caress. Jason only nodded, felt Kirill's hand let go of his erection to grab his hand, then he was led through the suite towards the equally impressing, huge master bedroom. They shed their trousers and shoes on the way, not caring the least where they landed, and Jason couldn't keep his gaze from trailing along the multicoloured bruises that still spread all over Kirill's body, some having begun to faint, others still standing out vividly. When Kirill pushed him down onto the kingsize mattress, there was no piece of clothing left to serve as a barrier between them.

The sheets were softer than anything Jason could remember ever feeling on his skin. The thought was lost as soon as he felt Kirill move over him, covering his whole body with his own, hot skin touching Jason everywhere. Kirill's lips found his again in a deep kiss, unhurried and thorough, as if he was exploring Jason's mouth, learning every curve. His hands travelled over the expanse of bare skin, caressing Jason everywhere he could reach.

The lips left Jason's mouth, wandered lower, over his throat and his shoulder to his right nipple, teasing it, then lower still, and Jason's eyes fell shut in pleasant anticipation. He wasn't disappointed, just a few seconds later, he felt the hot wetness of Kirill's tongue lick along the underside of his erection, trailing along the pulsing vein, then the mouth closed around the tip of his hardness. Kirill let his tongue swirl around him, his hand a steady, firm pressure on the base of his erection, his lips sliding teasingly along the sensible skin, and Jason could only groan in pleasure. Kirill certainly knew what he was doing.

Jason lost track of time, space, just everything besides the touch of Kirill's hands, his lips, his body. His arousal climbed higher and higher, yet Kirill kept him only close to the edge, never letting him pass over. Then his mouth let go of Jason's throbbing hardness, leaving him in a state of confused arousal. Firm hands took hold of Jason's hips and turned him onto his side, then the lips trailed up Jason's spine, soft licks and little bites, until they reached his shoulder, his neck. Kirill was pressed into his back, his hand passing in a teasingly soft caress over Jason's backside, along the inside of his thigh.

“Jason.” Kirill murmured against Jason's skin, accent thick in his voice. It was a silent question, asking for permission, making it clear that he wouldn't go any further if Jason didn't allow it. It was touching in its consideration, showing respect and care, and Jason's head fell back, allowing Kirill unrestricted access to his neck, raising his leg under the caressing hand, giving his answer without saying a word.

Kirill's lips fastened on his shoulder, his hands disappeared for a moment, then there was the cool touch of a slicked finger tracing Jason's opening in a teasing caress. For a second, Jason wondered where Kirill had managed to find lube, but then the finger pressed inside him, slowly and with careful pressure, and Jason's mind focussed on other things. The intrusion felt vaguely uncomfortable and Jason bit his lip, but then Kirill's finger passed over a spot inside him that made Jason see stars, made him lose all conscious thought and he could only arch his back, his mouth opening in surprise and releasing a hoarse groan.

He heard Kirill's low chuckle behind him, then the finger passed over that spot again, teasing him, and Jason raised his leg some more to grant Kirill better access. He stopped trying to control his voice, just let the sounds come, pressing back against the finger. Then there was a second one, accompanied by a slow burn that eased as soon as Kirill hit his prostate again and Jason just let himself fall into the pleasure, enjoying the feeling of being filled in a way he hadn't expected. He couldn't say if he'd done this before, didn't remember, but the feeling wasn't entirely new. There was something familiar about the sensation, something that made him suspect that this wasn't the first time.

Then the fingers retreated, only to be replaced by the slicked head of Kirill's erection, pressing against the loosened muscles of his entrance, sliding in oh so slowly. Jason gritted his teeth, there definitely was a difference in size to the fingers. He felt Kirill's hand caressing his stomach in a soothing pattern, heard his harsh panting close to his ear, felt the hot breath on the skin of his neck. Then the hand wandered lower, closed around his member, jerked him slowly, while the length of Kirill pressed in further and further. Jason bend his head, pressed his forehead to his arm, tried to control his breathing, relax his muscles.

Then Kirill pulled back and slid back in with a long, slow thrust, and the angle happened to be just perfect. He hit Jason's prostate and made him gasp, forgetting about the pain that he'd been hyperaware of only a second ago. Jason's head was thrown back now, resting on Kirill's arm, he was panting, pushing back into Kirill, meeting his every thrust fiercely, aiming for more friction, more contact, more pleasure. He thrust into the hand on his erection, then back on the hardness filling him, and he was lost to the world. Jason's one hand found its way to Kirill's hip, the other fisted into the sheets and he moaned deep in his throat.

Kirill's pace quickened, became irregular, his breath came in harsh, low growls against Jason's neck, then Kirill's hand closed over Jason's where it was twisted in the sheets, their finger entwined, and Jason pressed down hard when he came with a harsh groan. There was a pain in his shoulder and he felt Kirill bite him hard.

Then the world became white.

***

 

When he woke, the first thing that entered Jason's mind was the pleasant soreness that he felt in places of his body where he usually didn't feel it. When he turned from his back to his side, there was a low burn in his buttocks and he smiled at the memory of the previous night. He stretched, taking pleasure in the softness of the sheets, then he opened his eyes and looked around in the bedroom. Kirill was nowhere to be found, but Jason hadn't expected anything else. He couldn't say if Kirill was just a very early riser or if he avoided waking up with Jason on purpose.

Jason got out of the bed and was surprised to find his clothes neatly folded on the chair next to the window. Kirill must have collected them this morning, because Jason was fairly certain he had lost his shirt somewhere in the living room. He grinned and pulled on his trousers and shirt, not bothering with shoes, and walked out in the hallway. He was greeted by the smell of fresh coffee, and when he turned the corner to the living room, he found Kirill setting a rather huge breakfast on the table.

“Morning.” Jason said quietly, his voice slightly rough from overuse last night.

Kirill turned, a mug close to his lips, and greeted him with a smirk on his face. “Good morning.”

Jason walked over to the table and Kirill held out the cup of steaming hot coffee. Jason accepted it with a grateful smile and took a sip. It was heaven on earth, even though it was incredibly strong.

“So, how do we find Vetrov?” Jason asked while he took another sip out of Kirill's mug and sat down at the table. “I assume we're not going to try to get him at work.”

“ _Niet_. He is too well protected.” Kirill agreed and helped himself to the extraordinarily rich breakfast. It was far too much for one person, but the room service didn't need to know that it was meant for two. “The only way to get hold of him is cornering him in the 'Zone'. He is there every Saturday night.”

“That would be tonight.” Jason remarked and handed Kirill the coffee. “Isn't it a bit careless to develop such a routine?”

“Usually, yes.” Kirill nodded and accepted the mug. “But this club is one of the safest places for him in the city. Access is strictly limited and controlled. You can only get in by invitation or as a well-paying regular.”

“So how do _we_ get in?”

“My face _is_ well known there.” Kirill replied with a smirk. Jason was certain there was a wicked edge to it. “We will need to make some preparations, though.”

“But if it's such a safe place, won't he learn of your presence?” Jason pointed out and bit into his toast. “Won't the FSB be contacted? They do have a standing kill order out for you, after all.”

Kirill just nodded and took another bite of the fried eggs. “Of course they will know. I give us fifteen minutes, tops, before they arrive.”

Jason just saw one problem. “How do _I_ get in? I'm not a regular, and I'm most certainly not invited.”

Kirill's smirk was openly mischievous this time. “You will have to pose as my current boy toy.”

***

Jason felt strange in his new outfit and wondered how the hell he had ended up playing bunny for a former Russian FSB agent who had once tried to kill him. Life sometimes took the most unexpected turns, really. Because he would never have thought to wear tight leather pants and a halfway unbuttoned white shirt under a heavy fur coat. Or spike his hair up with gel and wear kohl around his eyes. When he'd seen himself in the mirror, he almost hadn't recognised himself. He was fairly convinced he could have walked through the CIA Headquarters like this and nobody would have believed him that he was Jason Bourne.

One look at Kirill, who was walking next to him while they approached the entrance of the club, made Jason lick his lips in an unconscious gesture. The Russian knew how to dress up, that much was certain. He wore heavy boots that made him even taller than he already was and Jason noticed not for the first time that he was smaller than Kirill. Combined with black pants and a black shirt under a casual but elegant jacket he looked every bit like the confident FSB agent he had been only some weeks ago. He was so obviously comfortable in the surroundings that Jason wondered how much time he had spent in this club before things went south.

The entrance was nondescript and low-key, without knowing what lay behind, one would have walked past without ever giving it a second glance. The only sign that there was more to the simple white metal doors were the two men standing in front of it, both with the definite aura of bouncers. Kirill approached them without the slightest hesitation, his expression cool and superior, his movements confident and casual. The taller of the two men greeted Kirill with a nod and some friendly words, then his gaze wandered over Jason, giving him a once over that made the American want to hit him.

“You have found a nice one there.” The taller bouncer laughed, raising his hand towards Jason's face and the American had to force himself not to react and break every bone in that arm. It would have blown his cover most efficiently. Before the man could make contact, though, Kirill's hand had shot out and gripped his wrist hard, his eyes narrowing with definite threat. “He is mine.”

Jason was aware this was all part of their cover, but he wasn't prepared for the deep possessiveness in Kirill's voice, wasn't prepared for the wave of arousal that swept through his body at the low words. He just _knew_ that Kirill meant what he'd said and Jason had to fight not to let his reaction show.

The tall bouncer retreated immediately, his free hand raised in a defensive gesture. “All right, all right. He's yours.”

Kirill inclined his head in a short nod and let go of the man's hand, then he wrapped a demonstrative arm around Jason's shoulders. The second bouncer opened the door and let them in.

“Enjoy.” he said, his face expressionless, and closed the door behind them.

***

Kirill scanned the club unobtrusively while they made their way over to the bar. His gaze found Vetrov easily. Having spend so much time here, Kirill knew the habits of the patrons, of the staff, of the ever-present hookers. He turned and pulled Jason against him as if he was just groping him, but instead he used the closeness to talk to him. “Vetrov is in the booth to the right of the bar, a woman on each side of him.”

He felt Jason turn as if he was nipping Kirill's neck, instead the American peeked over Kirill's shoulder and assessed the situation. “Broad build, short hair, in his late forties?”

“ _Da._ ”

“Time is running. I'll approach him, get him to the darkroom.” Kirill felt Jason hesitate a moment. “And you are certain he will fall for it?”

Kirill gave a harsh snort. “Believe me, you are exactly his type. Your face will fascinate him. He likes the boyish look. It was one of the reasons I was always safe – I never had that look.”

Kirill felt Jason nod, then there was a quick press of lips on his collarbone before Jason had pulled away and was casually walking through the dancing crowd. Kirill stared after him, resisting the urge to put his hand on the spot Jason had just kissed, and couldn't decide if he wanted to smile or frown in confusion. Well, now was not the time to think about it.

They had less than fifteen minutes before hell would break loose.

***

Jason let the music flow into his movements while he positioned himself so that Vetrov just had to notice him. Out of the eye he saw Kirill disappear in the crowd, making his way over to the back of the club. Jason let his gaze travel over to Vetrov and hid a smirk when he found that he had already gained the man's attention. Vetrov was looking at him openly, letting his gaze wander over Jason's body appreciatively and gave him a smile when the American looked at him. Jason kept moving to the music, making sure his motions were slow and sensual, and raised an eyebrow at Vetrov in question. The Russian gave a little nod and got up, the women at his side glaring at Jason openly for the theft of their potential customer.

Jason held Vetrov's gaze when he walked over and before the man could reach him, Jason turned to make his way over to the darkroom, his steps unhurried, moving his hips with a little swing. He threw a teasing gaze over his shoulder and made sure Vetrov was indeed following him. There was no need to worry. Kirill had been right about his former superior. There was a leer on the otherwise handsome face, the eyes dark with lust and his whole body radiated sexual tension.

***

Stanislav Vetrov was a man of taste. He knew beauty when he saw it, and that young man was definitely a beauty. Unusual for this place, but that only made him more fascinating.

Vetrov followed the young man who was walking towards the darkroom with a slow swing to his step that made his hips move in a very tempting way. It would be satisfying to break this young man, to see him lose his mind to pleasure and to make him submit to Vetrov. If he had potential, maybe it would be fun to keep him around for another round later on, Vetrov thought while he opened the door that had just begun to fall shut after the young man. The noise of the loud music in the club was dulled by the soundproof walls of the darkroom, the red lighting creating an intimate atmosphere, and Vetrov saw the young man just as he disappeared around the corner with a teasing smirk on his boyish face.

Oh yes, this was going to be fun. With a smirk of his own, Vetrov followed him. He stopped dead in his tracks when he felt the unmistakable shape of the muzzle of a gun press to his temple just as he came around the corner.

“Nice to meet you again, old friend.” The voice was familiar, but he hadn't expected to ever hear it again. When he turned his head slightly, he looked right into the face of his former apprentice who had the gun pointed securely at Vetrov's head. Kirill always aimed for the head, it had been one of Vetrov's lessons.

“Kirill. What a surprise.” Vetrov remarked with a raised eyebrow, careful not to make any harsh movements. He knew this man inside out. He had _made_ him, had trained him, had defined what he thought, how he thought, so he knew Kirill would pull the trigger if he was provoked. “What brings you here?”

“You didn't expect to see me again, did you?” Kirill asked quietly, his face blank. “After you'd loaned my services to Gretkov, you thought he would solve the problem for you.”

Vetrov looked at the younger man, let his gaze travel over his face, his whole appearance. He looked different, not only because he had obviously given up on his military haircut, but also because of the expression in his eyes and... something else. It annoyed Vetrov that he couldn't really put his finger on what it was.

Suddenly, the young man whom Vetrov had followed here appeared behind Kirill. He held a watch in his hand, obviously synchronising it with his own, then he took hold of Kirill's left hand and put the watch on his wrist. When the man turned and gave Vetrov a sharp glance, there was nothing left of the teasing boy he'd seen in the club. This man was a professional assassin, Vetrov was certain of that. He wondered how he could have fallen for the charade, how he couldn't have seen it before.

“Set on eight minutes and running.” the man said in a low voice, an unmistakable American accent to his Russian.

Kirill just nodded, and the man touched a hand to the nape of Kirill's neck in a quick gesture that Vetrov could only call tender, then the man turned and left. Who was this man that Kirill obviously worked with? Seemed to trust him even though he'd always been taught not to trust anybody save his superiors? Vetrov felt even more annoyed at the realisation that he didn't have all the information, that he didn't have the upper hand at the moment. He had to change the odds, turn the tables. Push Kirill's buttons and distract him.

“What are you here for, Kirill?”

“Do you really have to ask that?” His apprentice replied with a raised eyebrow. Sometimes Vetrov forgot the sharp sarcasm that Kirill possessed but rarely showed.

“Do you honestly think that there's a way for you to come back? Face the facts, Kirill.” Vetrov said and gave his former apprentice a disdainful look. “You failed your mission. You failed it _twice_. I had expected more from you.”

He felt a measure of satisfaction to see that his words had found their target, that he had hurt Kirill not only in his professional pride, but in his very identity. His weakness was going to turn into Vetrov's strength.

“I succeeded in Berlin.” Kirill replied with a snarl.

“You shot the handler and his CIA contact, got the money and the files, but then instead of your mark, you shoot his girlfriend and he walks and causes trouble to no end.” Vetrov added in the same dismissive voice. “You are a _failure_. And the FSB doesn't tolerate failures.”

“Who says that I want to return to the FSB?” Kirill asked, the pressure of the gun against Vetrov's head never easing, never wavering. He had a tight grip on his emotions and on his body, one of the reasons he had been one of Vetrov's best students.

“You will always be a killer, Kirill. It's the only thing you know how to do. It's the only thing we ever taught you.” Vetrov made sure his voice was calm, certain, superior. “And that's why you won't shoot me, because you only want back into the world you knew and I am the only way back in.”

“I don't think so.” Kirill's voice was cold, his gaze calm, satisfied, as if he had just understood something. “What I do is my choice.”

Maybe he didn't know Kirill as well as he thought he did, Vetrov wondered just before he heard the shot being fired.

***

Jason left through the backdoor of the club, walking around the block in a casual speed so he didn't attract any attention. He headed straight for the old car parked in the side alley, got in and entered the late night traffic. He could already hear the sirens of the police close by. He smirked. Right on time. Anonymous tips sometimes worked wonders.

It took him only a few minutes to reach the pier and he made sure to park in the shadows out of sight of the street. He opened the trunk, quickly pulled off his clothes and changed into the black wet suit. He quickly checked his watch, then he donned the air tank.

He slid into the cold water of the Moskva River only a few seconds later.

***

Kirill waited just long enough on the roof of the low annex building of the club until he saw the trademark black cars of the FSB and the white-blue police cars pull in in front of the club, then he made sure he was seen before he jumped. It was only when his feet connected with the ground and he felt a flash of searing pain shoot through his right leg that he remembered why jumping off buildings was something he should avoid in the future. He gritted his teeth and hurried over to where he'd parked the black Mercedes and slid behind the wheel. He pulled out with enough speed to make the tyres screech, and a quick look in the rear mirror showed him that there were three police cars ad two black limousines on his tail.

Perfect.

Kirill stepped on the gas, speeding down the street, worming his way through the cars on his lane. The sound of the sirens was loud behind him and Kirill changed course when he reached the crossing that would lead him down to the Moskva River bank. He made sure he didn't loose his tail, then he gave his watch a quick glance. He was just in time.

The bridge came into view. The traffic light was red and the cars had begun to queue in front of it. Kirill thanked chance for being so kind to him, it gave him a perfect reason to venture in the lane of the oncoming traffic. He turned the wheel, the Mercedes left the lane and ventured over the central dividing strip. The oncoming cars honked and pulled out of his way in panicked manoeuvres. Kirill waited for a bus to come straight at him, then he suddenly turned the steering wheel as if he was trying to avoid collision. The Mercedes spun over the lane, straight at the brim of the bridge, then it broke through the railing and shot over the edge.

The impact with the surface of the river was hard and Kirill shielded his head the best he could. Water entered the car immediately, filling it up and making it sink. The cold hit Kirill in the face and cleared the haze in his head. His body came to life, he quickly opened the seat belt, took a deep breath and pushed at the door of the car, then he kicked off with his leg, leaving the sinking vehicle behind.

Only seconds later he felt a hand grip his arm, then a diving mask was pressed against his mouth and he took a deep breath.

***

Once he'd gripped him, Jason never let go of Kirill's hand. With his diving goggles, Jason was the only one of them who could see something in the murky water, and he knew the way to the part of the shore where they had planned to leave the water, far enough from the bridge to avoid being seen. And they had to get there quickly, the water was very cold, and Kirill didn't have the protection of a wet suit. Even with the tank providing the necessary air to breath, he wouldn't last longer than a few minutes.

Jason tightened his grip and pushed on.

***

The way to the place Kirill had in mind seemed to be a lot longer than he thought it would be. The jump off the roof hadn't been his best idea, his leg hadn't taken it too well and the pain intensified with every step. He knew his limp was quite pronounced right now, but there was nothing he could do about it at the moment. They needed to get to the apartment, off the street, out of the soaked clothes. He could take care of his injury then.

Jason was walking next to him, a concerned frown on his face, but he didn't say anything. Kirill appreciated it, he knew he wouldn't react well to any offer of help right now. Vetrov's words still stung.

They passed the way in silence and when they reached the building, Kirill unlocked the door and they took the lift up to the third floor. He opened the door to a flat to their right and entered, not turning to see if Jason followed. He just knew he would.

“We can stay here for the night.” Kirill said while he began to strip off his wet jacket. “Nobody knows about this place. It's as safe as we can be in Moscow.”

He heard Jason close the door, and turned to throw him a glance while he toed off his boots. There was water inside of them. “Make yourself at home. I'll take a shower.”

Kirill limped past him, pulling off his shirt while opening the door to the bathroom. Only when he was sure he was out of sight, he allowed to give into the pain and he leaned heavily on the washbasin. He gritted his teeth, willing the pain in his leg to go away. He closed his eyes for a moment, focussing on the task. He wasn't prepared for the hand that suddenly lay warm and flat against his thigh, for the presence of Jason's bare chest in his back. He must have taken off the wet suit, Kirill thought distractedly and tried not to flinch at the sudden touch.

“Show me how I can ease the pain.” Jason's voice was low, close to his ear, his warm breath touching Kirill's skin. Kirill couldn't suppress the shudder that ran through his body and he knew Jason felt it. He wasn't used to somebody taking care of him, to somebody wanting to make him feel better. He was confused, didn't know how to react to this, didn't know what to do.

Then the hand began to pass over his thigh, down to his knee, with gentle pressure, tracing his cramped muscles through the soaked trousers, and Kirill couldn't hold back a content groan as the pain eased. Instinctively, he leaned into the touch.

Jason's lips touched his neck, pressing to his skin, the tongue passing over his flesh. “Show me, _Kiryusha_.”

Kirill's eyes flew open at the name, his body stiffened for a moment, his mind suddenly racing. He hadn't been called that in a very very long time. And to hear it from Jason, his voice low and rough, weaving around the name like a caress, was something he had never expected to happen, had never even thought about. Yet he was absolutely certain that Jason knew about the connotation, about the meaning, knew what he told Kirill by choosing to address him by it.

After a moment, the tension left his body and he allowed himself to lean against Jason's solid form behind him, then his hand slowly slid down, covering Jason's. His fingers pressed along Jason's, guided their way, their pressure and their movements along his leg in the slow, firm massage that always managed to relax his muscles, ease the pain. This was the first time there was a new component to it, something that was sensual in an entirely different way from the physical therapist's touch, something that went deeper than skin and muscles.

“Allow me to make you feel good.” Jason's left hand settled on Kirill's waist, slowly beginning to trace a random pattern on the skin of his stomach, his chest, his left arm. His lips wandered along Kirill's shoulder and his neck, his right hand never ceasing the firm but gentle massage. “Please, _Kiryusha_.”

Kirill shuddered at the sound of the affectionate form of his name that felt like a most intimate caress. He couldn't say when his eyes had closed, when his head had fallen back to rest on Jason's shoulder, granting better access for the lips on his neck. He allowed himself to let go of his control, his tight grip on his body, trusting Jason to hold him, to keep him safe, to protect him in this moment of vulnerability, instinctively knowing that he would.

“Say it again.” Kirill growled and pressed back against Jason. He wanted to hear his name in that rough voice again.

“Please...” Jason bit down on his neck, his hand scratching none too gently over a nipple. “... _Kiryusha_.”

Kirill couldn't help the low groan. He felt Jason's hand wander to his fly, then his uncomfortably clammy trousers were peeled off his skin and he was pushed gently into the shower stall. Jason was right behind him again, testing the temperature of the water, and then the warmth was flowing over Kirill's chest, Jason pressed into his back and his hand returning to Kirill's thigh to resume the gentle massage.

It felt like heaven, relaxing and arousing at the same time, and Kirill couldn't help the way he melted against Jason, wanting desperately to trust, to let go, to allow his guard to come down for a few hours.

***

Jason pressed against the Kirill's body, biting his earlobe, his right hand still massaging the Russian's bad leg while he manoeuvred the two of them under the hot spray of water, letting it do its work to warming them up after the cold bath in the Moskva River. He was intoxicated by the soft sounds that escaped Kirill's lips, by how the Russian's body had melted against him, arching into his every touch.

“Let go, _Kiryusha_.” Jason murmured against the skin of his neck and the shudder that passed through his Russian was the most satisfying feeling he'd ever experienced. He loved how Kirill reacted to the affectionate form of his name, how it seemed to touch him more deeply than any physical caress ever could. He wanted Kirill to know what he meant to him and when his mind had provided a profound knowledge about Russian names that he couldn't remember learning, he'd known the perfect way that would make Kirill understand. And it seemed to work very well.

Jason let his left hand wander over the expanse of Kirill's chest, teasing his nipples, then he let it slide lower until it found Kirill's hardening shaft and wrapped around it in a firm grip. He bit the shoulder in front of him, while he began to move his hand in a maddeningly slow rhythm, wanting Kirill to lose control, to give everything he was. Wanted him to forget about the world, to live in the here and now, in the pleasure of the moment, content with what they had.

“I want you.” Jason murmured into the ear under his lips. “Will you allow it?”

In response, he felt Kirill spread his legs, pressing back and making Jason's erection slip between his thighs, head falling back on Jason's shoulder. “ _Da_ , Jason... Yes.”

Kirill's voice was hoarse, his accent so thick his words were barely understandable, but it was answer enough, and Jason understood the trust he was given, the meaning of this permission. He turned his head and claimed Kirill's mouth, his tongue sliding against his, deep and slow and teasing, making a promise. Kirill returned the kiss just as fiercely, his hand finding Jason's jaw, pulling him closer until the angle in which Jason had turned his head almost began to hurt. Jason didn't care, just met the challenge, all the while slicking his fingers with the shower gel that stood on the rack.

He applied a generous amount, then he intensified the kiss and let one finger tease Kirill's opening, playing around it, sliding in with careful pressure. He found less resistance than he had expected, moved in and out, added a second finger, scissoring, stretching the muscle ring. He took his time, not wanting to hurt Kirill, and applied even more of the shower gel before he dared to position himself at Kirill's entrance. He stilled when the head of his hardness pressed against the loosened muscle, kissing the Russian's shoulder in a wordless question for permission.

“Jason.” Kirill said with this strong accent in his hoarse voice and still managed to sound chiding as well as amused. “I'm not doing this for the first time. Move!”

Jason could only nod, he knew he wasn't able to form words right now, then he pressed in in one slow, measured thrust. Kirill, arched back against him, his breathing quick and laboured, his eyes pressed close, his mouth opened in a silent moan.

Jason slid almost completely out, then he pushed back in, taking up a slow and teasing rhythm, his hands never easing their firm hold on Kirill's hips. He felt Kirill's hand digging into the skin of his neck and he knew there would be marks tomorrow, but he didn't care the least. He just enjoyed Kirill's harsh pants, his sensual movements against Jason's body, pressing back onto his erection with equal passion, every thrust accented by a hoarse growl when his prostate was hit.

“Faster!” Kirill's voice ordered roughly, his right hand finding Jason's thigh and clawing into the flesh.

Jason couldn't help the groan that escaped him at the touch, his hips following the command, speeding up the pace, thrusting faster and faster. Kirill met his every movement, his breath quickening, biting his bottom lip. Jason lost focus on the world, the only things he were aware of was his connection with his lover, the sound of Kirill's growls, his hand on Jason's thigh, the friction on his erection. He felt climax build quickly and he took hold of Kirill's hardness, jerking him in turn with his thrusts.

“Come for me, _Kiryusha_.” Jason growled in his ear, astonished at how rough and hoarse his own voice was.

As if the sound of his name had triggered his orgasm, Kirill came with a harsh shout, his back arching, his interior muscles clamping down on Jason's erection, the extra stimulation making him see stars. Jason felt his release pump out of him into Kirill's body that was still clenching down rhythmically around him and he had to fight to stay conscious, to keep his legs from giving out. He reached out with his hand to support himself on the wall, the other hand still wrapped around Kirill's softening member.

“My leg will give out.” Kirill murmured between two harsh breaths and Jason had problems understanding him, even though he couldn't say if it was due to the thick accent that he found so utterly attractive, or because his brain had shut down. He just felt Kirill sink down and wrapped his arm around his waist, slowing his descent, sliding down along with him. He felt boneless, all his energy had left him all of the sudden.

The warm water was washing away the remains of their lovemaking, constantly raining down on them in a gentle spray. Jason leaned with his shoulder against the tiles, his arms wrapped around Kirill in a loose embrace. The Russian rested against him heavily, his breathing only slowly returning to normal.

“Bed?” Jason asked after a long time and pressed a kiss to Kirill's wet hair, right over the surgical scar.

He heard Kirill chuckle. It was a beautiful sound. “If you carry me there...”

***

When Jason woke the next morning, the sun hadn't risen yet. He needed a moment to orientate himself, to remember where he was. He felt a warm body under his and found that he had cuddled up to Kirill's side. The Russian's arm rested securely around Jason's shoulders, his face was relaxed in sleep.

Jason took the opportunity to watch him undisturbed. Until now, he'd always woken to find Kirill already gone. He let his hand brush away a few strands of dark hair that had fallen into the sleeping face, then he bend down and pressed a lingering kiss to Kirill's neck.

“Good Morning, _Kiryusha_.”

A soft smile spread over Kirill's face.

***

Gretkov was greeted by the familiar sight of his assistant waiting for him with a cigarette when he entered the meeting cell. He knew immediately that something had gone wrong.

“There have been complications, sir.” Nemov confirmed his suspicion only a moment later.

“What kind of complications?” Gretkov asked while he blew out the blue smoke in a straight line.

“Our man was found dead in Tangier, sir.”

Gretkov narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth. “This rogue agent is far more trouble than he is worth.”

“That's not everything, sir.” Nemov continued, his face impassive. “Vetrov was killed last night, sir.”

“He goes after those who ordered the hit on him. He will come after me, now.” Gretkov said in a low voice, a frown on his face. He took a deep pull from his cigarette and leaned back in the metal chair. This was not good. He was relatively safe behind the walls of the prison – what perfect irony – but he didn't doubt the assassin would find a way to get to him if he really wanted to kill him. This problem needed to be solved once and for all. “Take care of this situation, Andrei. Get him out of the way.”

Nemov nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Gretkov gave him a hard stare. “And do it right this time.”

***

“Here he comes.” Kirill said and watched Andrei Nemov get into his car. Nemov started the motor and drove off the parking lot of the prison, turning right to get back to the city centre. He had gone through all the moves Kirill had predicted and they'd easily found his car in front of the prison this morning. It had been a matter of seconds to install the tiny explosive device.

Jason pulled into the traffic to follow the black Mercedes in some distance. Kirill sat in the passenger seat, the remote trigger in his right hand, a scope in the left. He observed the traffic carefully, waiting for the right moment to press the button. The detonation would only be strong enough to make Nemov lose control of the car, so it had to be perfectly timed that he would end up in an accident that would be fatal. When Jason saw the shape of a huge truck approaching a crossing in some distance, he knew Kirill was going to aim for it.

He had been right. When Nemov wanted to brake to stop in front of the red light, Kirill set off the bomb and the car spun out of control. The brakes failed and Nemov couldn't keep the car from driving straight into the line of the crossing traffic. The truck crushed into the driver's side of the car with the harsh sound of bending metal and shattering glass, compressing it to half its size. There was no way Nemov could have survived that.

Kirill and Jason mixed with the onlookers and stayed at the scene long enough to see their assumption confirmed when the paramedics wrapped the body of the car's driver in a black plastic bag.

***

 _'The trial of oil magnate Yuri Gretkov has taken an unexpected turn today. New evidence was presented by the public prosecution this morning, cementing the accusations of fraud, international conspiracy and murder. A recording of a conversation between high ranking FSB director Stanislav Vetrov and FSB agent Kirill Morosov, who according to the files served as Gretkov's assassin, brought unmistakable evidence for Gretkov's involvement. Vetrov died two days ago in an armed confrontation between the Moscow Police and the FSB, Morosov drove off a bridge into the Moskva River when the police tried to get hold of him after an anonymous tip._

 _With the new evidence, the case of Yuri Gretkov can be linked to the murder of the Russian politician Vladimir Neski in the late 1990s and the recent trial concerning a governmental assassination program called 'Blackbriar' which has been the topic of many heated discussions of late. The fate of David Webb, also known as Jason Bourne, who was the source behind the exposure of the Blackbriar program, is still unknown. After three days of unsuccessful search, his death seems a certainty.'_

***

“I am free.” Jason heard Kirill say, his voice sounding astonished, as if he couldn't believe it. Then the corners of his mouth rose slowly.

Jason felt his heart stop. Kirill's smile was just incredibly beautiful. It transformed his whole face, made him look young and carefree and _gorgeous_ – and Jason had never expected to use that word to describe _Kirill_ , but it was the only one that seemed appropriate. He felt himself return the smile, felt it in his very being as the realisation sunk in that they were really and absolutely free to go wherever they wanted, to live how they wanted.

Jason leaned back against the headboard of the bed. “So, what are you going to do now?”

Kirill grinned at him. “Live.”

Jason chuckled. “A good idea.”

Kirill switched off the TV, then he turned over to Jason with a slow, predatory movement that made Jason's skin prickle. The Russian crawled over him, straddled his thighs, then his hands came up to take hold of Jason's face and he claimed his mouth in a deep, thorough kiss. Kirill pulled back after a moment, only to nip at Jason's bottom lip.

“So, where do we go next?”


End file.
